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The light pierced through layers of darkness, obliterating the mummies beyond. Immortality meant nothing before the swordlight of the Holy Sword.
Like bundles of straw with their strings cut, the mummies collapsed, and the beam of Alkaid reached Nephren-Ka’s face in an instant with power that could have pierced even plates of orichalcum.
Against an otherworldly being, the Holy Sword was the ultimate weapon. And now, imbued with the Aura of the sun, its force was terrifying.
If the giant Leon had fought in Blaine and the vampire mage he had faced in Rubena had taken this strike head-on, they would have fallen in a single blow. However—
“Hmm?”
The blazing swordlight was casually stopped by the staff that Nephren-Ka raised, its round head deflecting the beam. The light struggled, pushing forward until its last vestige, but at length it fizzled out.
“What…?”
Leon’s eyes widened in shock at the unexpected defense. Nephren-Ka sneered with his withered lips.
“Is this all? Is this the true strength of someone who bears the cursed sun’s power and wields the Holy Sword?” Then, he swung his staff wide and roared, “Pathetic!”
At once, rippling darkness surged forth. This time, it wasn’t some beetles. Centered on Nephren-Ka, a wave of blackness drew a circle that devoured light. A primeval sorcery of unknown origin. Only one person—or rather, sword—present...
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